War wounds
by Shanowa
Summary: Obi-Wan Kenobi relives a war memory and contemplates old mistakes. Post-Clone wars. AU with different war-outcome.


_**Disclaimer: Not mine, part of the Star Wars Universe which belongs to George Lucas and his team.**_

**Yes, yes, I know, I should rather update one of my open (and long overdue) stories before I write another oneshot - I just had this questionable idea... No, no excuse, I just wanted to;)**

**Short summary: Obi-Wan at the soul healer's. He tells her an old memory and contemplates about it. Post-war. AU. I just thought that maybe all Jedi had to visit a soul healer from time to time during and after the clone wars. Just to get examined once in a while. Sometimes to get treated. After all, they were responsible for a lot of troopers. And, Jedi or not, a war causes terrible twists to a beings psyche, I can imagine. I hope this doesn't sound too weird. Well, l****et's just pretend they were forced to pay them visits, now, for this fanfic;)**

**I hope I got him in character (just a bit more weary than usually). Feedback is being used to cheer him up, flames to brew him some tea ;)**

**I also hope my english is acceptable in this story *lol* if not, please, feel free to correct me:) I'm always grateful for corrections and tips and stuff:)**

**Oh, and, by the way, the last sentence is actually not an official quotation. It's just an old adage I could imagine the Master to bring up.**

**Have fun! xD**

* * *

><p><strong>War wounds<strong>

"Well there were plenty of moments, actually"

"Tell me one. Tell me one you remember. Tell me of one of the worst moments you experienced in war, Master"

"Well, there was... There was one time I-" He ran a nervous hand through his still mostly auburn strands and tugged uncomfortable on his beard.

"Yes?"

"One time I remember quite clearly. It wasn't- Well it wasn't extraordinarily painful. Or humiliating. It wasn't even that eventful. No, it was boring actually. But still-"

He fidgeted under her stare. "Yes?"

"It was about noon, I think. It should have been bright, but it somehow wasn't. There was an eerily dim light, some sort of twilight that day. Like it was trapped beneath all the thick layers of clouds and dust and ash which covered the surface.

"The battle had been waging for hours. It was a hard one. Noisy and loud. Inexorable. Relentless. The ground was littered with bodies and scraps – clones and sharp pieces of battle droids and the earth was torn and ripped and somehow damp enough that everything was covered with mud. There was this greyish dust that polluted the air and made it almost impossible to breath properly. I remember that that was a day where I desperately wished for a helmet of a clone's armour and I cursed the Jedi order for it's cloth tunics and lack of protection.

"The heat was unbearable. It was some sort of sticky air that didn't move at all. It was just hanging there, filled with the stink of dead and blood and pain.

"It clung to my body, smeared with blood and oil, charred and wet by me, sweating.

"It was a pain, the entire battle was. And then, from one moment to the other, I found myself on my back on the floor. I went down hard, I remember that, after I had been hauled through the air and shot simultaneously and I recall myself angry at that because I was convinced that that itself was, for crying out loud – totally unfair. I mean I was helpless then, hanging somewhere in the air and not to mention unarmed – and still the light bullet buried itself in my side.

"But there was an alarming lack of pain, at first. I didn't feel anything. I was just surprised that I couldn't move. That I couldn't get up or even calling my lightsaber to me.

"I was laying on my back, helpless like a bloody nubian beetle, too weak to reach for my weapon, too tired to try and call for help through the force. I didn't really know how severe my injuries where, either. If they were grave at all. Or if I was just in a state of shock that would submerge early enough. It didn't even know what parts of my body were affected, for that matter. It didn't took me too long to find out, though.

"The shot had only graced my side, I think. Nothing dramatic, really. But my right tight was broken. And it was really my tight, not just my calve. It took ages to heal properly and I had to stay in bed for more than a weak. Motionless. Just awfully annoying. I swear I made myself known and feared amongst the healers on the station they had brought me to afterwards. Gained quite a reputation there. Even though I did cooperate with them and even followed their orders. Far more so than I ever did in the temple. Well, back to the topic.

"So I found myself there in this quite compromising situation. Shot, tight broken, spine fractured, one hand shattered. Not that it mattered, anyway. It sounds worse than it was. Several injuries, but none of them acutely life threatening.

"But due to my battered back, I couldn't move. Later, the healers told me that I was lucky that I managed a full recovery and didn't stay paralyzed.

"Anyway, so I remained lying there in the mud, waiting for someone to find me. And I waited. And waited. Around me, the bloodshed continued with fierce determination, the air glimmering with blaster shots and full of flying debris. There was a lot of screaming and yelling and crying, one explosion after another, clones were slain, droids were being dismantled and all of that united to some kind of blood-soaked, misty abyss that pulled everything into a maelstrom of death around me. And I could only watch.

"From time to time, a clone would pass by, occasionally stomping over me, shattering one or two of my rips, but they ignored me. For them, I was obviously just another dead body. Another dead Jedi. Although I doubt they'd seen me at all. Probably to engrossed in staying alive. The droids, however, really didn't took notice of me at all. For that I am very grateful"

He let out a dry, bleak chuckle. The Jedi that scrutinized his face didn't answer. And so he continued with his his tale.

"I remember it was awfully cold that night. I was shivering in my soaked tunics. But I think that was just my imagination, playing tricks on me. It did fit, you know, the coldness and the solitude. As a Jedi, I should be unaffected by such things, but in the heat of the battle, the force full of swirling desperate emotions and the faint traced of a passed on being, I felt very lonely. Abandoned. It was not a pleasant feeling, I can tell. I just had no power left to actually be the Jedi I had so sought to be and release all my anguish into the force.

"I had no more endurance to keep up the mask of the stoic, indifferent master and calmly wait for help. Or call for it through the force. I had no strength left in me. I was so exhausted. So tired. I spent ours in that little shallow hollow where the grenade had dashed me into and left to die.

"The shot fad been fired around noon. But now it was already night. The two suns had set. I had watched the dim light that was cast by the concealed suns diminish and then finally extinguish. Together with the light of hundreds of republican soldiers. The sunset was surprisingly intense in its invisible sobriety. Stunning. Beautiful even, if one could turn a blind eye to the pattern of destruction and the carved picture of agony beneath the sky and its eternal, delightful innocence.

"Innocence, created by indifference towards the deeds of mortal being on the planets surface and preserved by total invincibility and independence. The light of the sky will never cease to exist. It doesn't flicker, it can't vanish, nor will it ever bow to the laws of destiny and fate as we know them and do.

"The sky just doesn't care. And therefore it won't ever be harmed. Sometimes I wish I had the ability to be just like that. To adjust and become like the sky. To become cold, unfeeling. I think it is unfair, that we are actually forced to life. And feel. We are coaxed into fighting in vain through our lives. One battle after the other. Most of them against ourselves. Mortal life demands sacrifices I'm not always ready to offer. Sacrifices that I am not always sure are worth it.

"Alright, I'm just rambling now.

"However, also the day is mortal in a way. And it had faded and died that day on the battlefield while I was still waiting, hoping on the wet, hard ground. I allowed myself too feel anxious, scared, even desperate and succumbed to the helplessness of my situation simply because I had no more strength in me to deny it. I had denied too long. To much.

"The war was taking its toll out of us all. And, lying there, I could feel it more pronounced than ever, this exhaustion. The wariness. And the darkness, that lingered in the shadows behind the lids of my eyes. It was present, the dark side, lurking beside me, watching me and my slow, tenacious demise. I could hear it cackle at the sight of me while I was fighting a lost war against myself. It savoured the sight, relished the suffering in the galaxy, my pain in that case and marvelled at the glorious victory it had already achieved. Somehow the shadows knew they would prevail like they always did in the wake of a bloodshed like that. I don't know why I believed to feel that, then. I guess it was my connection to the Unifying Force. It can be such a bitch, sometimes...

"It didn't actually say that out loud did I? I did? Oh, no. I didn't – I wasn't - Just forget that I've ever said that okay? Stop laughing at me, even I sometimes talk before I think! That's all Anakins fault! He's tainted me.

"Okay, I'll go on. Back to being melancholic. Yeah, I know I'm being overly dramatic. But its just so boring otherwise.

"So the day faded. And while my troops remained oblivious to the fallen Jedi in their midst, the battle slowly came to a laboured end.

"Then the night fully descended upon me and the blackness of the shadows were only outweighed by those in my mind that kept telling me that I had already been forgotten that I had been left to die, alone, amongst putrescent, mutilated flesh and oxidising, cold durasteel. I tried them to shut up, but- but they were rather persistent. I think I have lost quite a part of my sanity that night."

Another dry, bleak chuckle, almost a cackle.

"Am I crazy, now? What do you think, has this war left me somewhat – mad?"

No answer. Just another, inquiring look that almost melted into concern as he searched it desperately for the answers he knew no one else could provide him but him and him alone. He searched for anyway it in the eyes of the other Jedi.

"No answer is still an answer, they say. I take it as a yes, then. No? Yes? What now?"

No reaction, the wrinkled face of the healer seemed carved in stone. He decided to ignore it.

"Wouldn't surprise me, though, if I were. We all are, probably by now. Nevermind, let's finish that, shall we? I'm hungry and we're missing lunch"

Again, only silence. Not that he'd have expected anything else. And so he continued.

"The field had indeed been abandoned. And to that time I thought, I had been, too. It was quiet. But the silence was, in a way, more deafening than a battle could ever be. I was so tired. So cold.

"But I still hadn't given up and so I kept breathing. I kept hoping. And I clung to life.

"Three or four times I could feel Anakin nearby. I like to think I could even recognise him through the black fog of the night. One time he passed me near enough that I would have touched him, had I been able to extent my hand. Only – I wasn't. I was in no condition for anything. Let alone move. And there was still the matter of my temporary paralysis.

"And, as if that wasn't enough, I also had a hard time producing any meaningful noise because my throat felt like I had swallowed a sandstorm and I didn't manage anything more a hoarse croak and while this rang shockingly loud in my ears, it went unnoticed by him. And so, combined by the chains my despair had forced onto me that effectively robbed me of the usually so natural instinct of reaching into the force and use the bond we have, I could only watch in silent distress as he passed me and walked further and further away from me until he vanished in the distance. The feeling was - incomprehensible. I think I have never felt so betrayed my entire life. At least not by the force.

"As the darkness of the night then bled into the faint sparkle of a morning that was, again, of unexpected beauty in its gentle approach, I finally decided that it didn't matter anymore. That yes, it would be cruel to leave Anakin behind, that it would be irresponsible to leave my friends – my family to fight on its own but that it was obviously be the will of the force and so – I let go.

"I remember that I had felt horrible for neglecting my promises and duties towards Anakin – to burden him with just another load of grief and then responsibility to carry on his already packed shoulders and I remember feeling somehow scared to pass away like that.

"The very last thing I remember thinking before passing out into unconsciousness, though, was a plea:

_"Please – oh force, please don't let me die alone! Please I need to talk to Anakin! Please!_

"Isn't that funny? Thousands of being around me had dies, hundreds were suffering and - screaming in pain or something and the republic was falling apart and all I could think in that moment was – well, about me. So selfish. I feel - ashamed – when I think of that. And a bit disappointed. Even Qui-Gon had better things to say and think about while lying in his last – well, I guess now it's too late to change anything. And I didn't die after all, but still – selfish."

_Selfishness. Darkness. Failure._

Silence lay heavily upon them as the Obi-Wan had finished. Yet again like it always seemed the matter after he had relived events like this, he felt incredibly guilty. He had been so selfish that night, only thinking about himself while the galaxy around him crumbled and the cataclysm the republic as well as the separatists had brought down upon the planet they had sworn to protect was already tainting everything that was left there. The light was already decaying and, focused on himself and his own suffering, wailing in misery, he had failed to see it.

He had failed to see Anakin stagger and stumble – and then fall.

_Failed_. _You are a failure, Kenobi. _

Maybe Dooku had been right after all.

He was a failure. Unworthy. Everything he had touched seemed to crumble between his fingers. Sooner or later. He just couldn't get it right. No wonder he hadn't been able to safe his Master. No wonder he'd failed his Padawan. He'd pushed him too hard, too fast. Or maybe he didn't push enough. Either way, now it was to late to change anything about that. It was an effort to release all this into the force. It all seemed to be. He didn't know when this had started, but for months now he increasingly felt like a Youngling, struggling to get his emotions under control. He could just hope that this would fade when he'd readjusted to the peace. To missions without violence. Without blood. To simple negotiating and politics who fell out over agricultural issues and not over armies, assaults and heavy civilian losses. But from the General back to the Jedi-Master was actually not as easy as it sounded.

He still couldn't sleep. It was too quiet during the nights. No distant blasters, no faint bursts of explosion, no yelling, no grunting in pain of the wounded. It should have been comforting, the quiet safety of the temple, but it wasn't. He always was on edge when their apartment was quiet and he took up old habits from the war he should have long broken. When it was quiet and calm, he slept with an open eye and the hand closed around his weapon because still, after all this time, silence meant danger. Silence meant, the enemy had retreated and was now closing in for a fatal blow. Silence was always followed by blood. And silence meant nightmares. Nightmares during the nightly shadows, filled with mangled corpses and accusing stares while silence in the bright, hard light of the day meant brooding – and remembering – and guilt. Silence meant death. Somehow, it meant death, even if he couldn't quite place that feeling anymore.

Death and – failure. Always failure. They always seemed to appear together, those two. Failure and death. But who lead to the other? Did one lead? Or did they happen both at the same time. Were they twins? Mirroring each other? Inviting each other? Or were they one and the same?

He had failed Anakin. And caused the death of so many. Even children. And now it was too late to change it. They could comfort the harmed, they could patch up the wounds that had been inflicted – but they could never hope to heal them fully. Time would see that the light would prevail and the pain would be forgotten. But for them and their generation, there was no hope. For them it was too late. For Anakin, it was too late. The damage that had been done was irreversible. He could never hope to fix him. He had failed the chosen one. And whilst it was true that it had not been him that had swung the blade under which thousands of innocents fell, the cerulean blade that had slain pure, innocent children and sliced through the very heart of the Jedi order, it was still him who would have been in the best position to prevent it. Perhaps. If he had not been so oblivious to his Padawan's suffering.

And while he absent-mindedly listened to the healer across him and made an effort to nod at the right points, his thoughts travelled down another path. In the end, it had all turned out well for the galaxy. The chosen one had finally followed his destiny and eliminated the Sith, peace had been restored. And the Anakin had found peace in the arms of his wife and lived a life now parsecs away from Coruscant as an ordinary citizen of the republic. He was happy now. That was all that mattered. But Obi-Wan hadn't been able to forget as quickly while he had worked hard to restore the Jedi Order and to find the members who had survived in a painstakingly slow progress.

He had forgiven Anakin a long time ago.

But he knew he could never forgive himself. He had decided, though, that he couldn't bother anyone else with that knowledge. This was his burden and his alone.

And so he continued with the meetings Quinlan had forced him to attend to, knowing that it was a futile effort. He listened to the soul-healers and dismissed their advice as soon as it reached his ears. But he didn't hope for forgiveness.

He didn't deserve it. And he didn't seek it, either.

No, absolution was not for him.

* * *

><p><em>The darkest shadows are always those lurking within our own hearts. - <em>Qui-Gon Jinn to Obi-Wan Kenobi


End file.
